


How long has it been?

by Skyriazeth



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Crying, FORD CRYING AGAIN YOU SAY?, M/M, Post-Betrayal, Triangle Bill Cipher, yeah probably angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-27 01:53:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12071259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyriazeth/pseuds/Skyriazeth
Summary: After 30 long years of running, Ford finally gets some time to himself in his room.





	How long has it been?

 

 

Rain. It’s surprisingly soothing as the first few drops resonated soft pitter patters to the empty house, the static white noise of the TV from the living room having ceased when he left for his room. His brother had decided to retire early this evening, tired and worn from today’s events – which included a heated argument with his twin that he hasn’t seen for years, and a short round of introduction to the two nibblings – a pair of twins, just like them. One was an overly eager, unusually sweaty young boy who seemed very nervous around him—named Dipper. While the other, Mabel, simply put, was enthusiastically cheerful and weird, and Ford was quite fond of that. The two fraternal twins were the only pleasant surprise that he was met with after his 30 year long journey across the multiverse, his chance of defeating Bill Cipher plucked away by his insufferable brother. Ford sighed, knowing there was nothing he could do right now but try to rest as he twisted the old knob of his quarters.

 A certain calmness washed over him when he entered the barren room, practically untouched save for the body-swap carpet that was rolled neatly and stowed at the corner. It was for the best that it had been put away anyways, ever since hearing the trouble it had caused the pines family during his absence.

Outside, rain fell much more vigorously, the soft, irregular melody shifting into a steady one. Ford felt his tense muscles relax when he walked inside, scanning it thoroughly once to make sure nothing was hiding in the dark. The pressing feeling of wandering eyes that were constantly aware of his every move had never left, decades of conditioning forced him to remain alert at all times. Old habits die hard.  

He knew that Bill was always watching, and still is even right now, yet a strange type of longing managed to get a hold on Ford and dragged his tired body that was resting from the couch to the bookshelf placed at the far end of the room.

Ford glided his six fingered hand through the spine of each book, a small smile finding its way to his lips as memories of reading them in the comfort of his room fluttered warmly in his mind. The hand came to a halt however when it reached a book that had no title written at its back. Dust flew amok as he pulled the foam green book out for its place, the large book somehow sitting perfectly in his two hands.  A wave of nostalgia hit him as he flipped open the sturdy cover, pages still bound perfectly despite the test of time it had been through.  With the book firmly in his hold, he slipped onto the wooden floor, leaning against the bookshelf as the parchment gave off a pleasant, sweet smell that reminded him of crackling firewood, the ocean breeze and a set of swings, gently swaying to and fro.

Carefully as to not damage it, he turned to the first page, and neatly scrawled over it was his name in a childish cursive, which he thought was quite endearing. Ford let out a small chuckle, flipping to the next page, and stopped. A shaky breath escaped from him as he stared blankly at the old photo of him and Stanley in their youth, smiling widely, arms hooked on each other’s shoulders. His large, calloused hand moved to touch the photo’s matted surface, memories trickling back into his mind. Oh, how those days were simple, where the only thing he had to worry about was Stan’s absence. Now he could barely even face him without the feeling of regret, grief and rage evading his mind. After all these years, he still couldn’t make up with his brother.

As he went through the pages, one by one, all covered with silly pictures of him and his twin brother, he couldn’t help the voices ringing in his head, telling him what a terrible brother he must’ve been, how he wasn’t there when Stan probably needed him the most. It took him a considerable amount of effort not to let this line of thinking consume him, but with each passing page, he was finding it more and more difficult.

Would it change anything if he knew that Ford had thought about him frequently in the long, long nights when progress was at a standstill and he was alone with nothing but his wistful thoughts?  It didn’t matter that much, because shortly after those moments, he wouldn’t be alone anymore. He was never alone.

His breath hitched when he reached the last of the photos and went to the next page. It was a precise and wonderfully drawn depiction of his first time having tea with Bill, accurate to every single side and angle of his former muse.  He’d … forgotten about this. Ford wanted so badly to shut the book, and storm off to bed, but something made him stay glued in place, yearning to see what the next page might contain. The last thing he wanted was to see more of Bill, but…

For some reason, something that even his scientific knowledge can’t seem to explain, he missed him, plainly put...

… missed him.

Ford laughed pathetically. Missing his sworn-enemy? Now that was a whole new level of weird, even for him. Yet as much as he might try to deny it, somewhere deep inside him he knew this was true, and Bill did too.

With his trembling hands, he flipped to the next page.

A loose sketch of him and Bill in the mindscape, trudging through an imaginary forest of wonders that Ford could never had imagined back then.

… and the next.

A drawing of him smiling as he sat by a lakeside with Bill by his side, of which Ford recognized as their first date.

…

The next was when he had gotten his first tattoo of Bill, in all his blind devotion to him, and the delighted look on Bill when he saw the intricate markings.

“God… Bill…”

How much had he worship Bill, back then? Ford had dedicated his entire being to him—his body, soul and mind. He had given him everything he had and more, but no. Bill never wanted those. All he ever wanted was to open the portal, and he? He was the fool who believed in his God’s lie.

He didn’t realize he was crying until a sudden flash filled the room, and for a brief second, he thought Bill had appeared, summoned by the mere mention of him, but it was only wishful thinking on Ford’s part along with the occurrence of a natural phenomenon as rumbling thunder followed shortly after.

The rain was still going on when Ford was startled back to reality, letting the tears on his face slide down like the raindrops on his window before moving to wipe them away. This was… enough for tonight. He shut the book quickly, in hopes of not triggering anymore repressed memories of him and his...

Arch-nemesis?

 Sworn enemy?

… Former muse and lover?

He couldn’t tell by this point, so he tried not to think too much of it as he slid back under the covers and attempted to sleep.

 

That night, he dreamt of Jasmine tea, a game of chess, and a familiar presence he had come both to love, and hate.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello to everyone reading this : Please give me more reasons to make Ford suffer, thank you -


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